


cataclysm

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Apocalypse, Blood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Kidnapping, Mild Gore, Missing Persons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, no real ships, no super graphic descriptions though, though it could be implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23327170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: zak's apocalyptic world was much like everyone else's; grabbing anything that he could get his hands on; working for everything himself.only one thing fell into his hands: a young man who was named badboyhalo, and the disturbances that followed the two of them.[also posted on wattpad]
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	1. > one.

**Author's Note:**

> hey! not too new to the fanfic writing community, but definitely new to the mcyt side of it! i hope you all enjoy <3

Zak’s breath was taken away from him the second he took it in. Each step his feet took on the broken concrete sent a new jolt through his body.

“Bad? _Bad!_ ” he shouted, desperation painting his voice, “please… _please…_ ” he mumbled to himself. His body flew forward as his foot hooked on a jutted out piece of concrete. He felt the pain radiate through his arm as his body weight fell on his hand. He inhaled through gritted teeth as he shakily stood up. He looked down to his now-bleeding hand. _Damn it,_ he thought as he continued moving. Collapsed buildings around were looming over him. The bodies of people on the ground taunting him. 

_You’ll never find him._

_He’s with us now._

_Good luck ever seeing him again._

Zak felt tears sting the corner of his eyes.

“ _Bad!_ ” he shouted, voice gravelly from the held back tears. He saw movement in the corner of his eye. He knew his best friend should be around here. Hope flickered in his heart as he ran over.

A groan of discomfort was muffled by rubble. Zak knew something was off but refused to believe it. _It’s gotta be him._

He made eye contact with a dishevelled, but alive—

“Wh-What?"

* * *

Desperately clutching a water bottle that he had found rolling around on a desolate street, Zak ran. He was experienced at running now. Able to miss cracks in the ground without looking. The streets he ran through were empty, save the corpses he would see now and then. They still made him feel sick. No matter how many mutilated bodies he saw in his lifetime, the image of them stuck in his brain, unable to be cleared. He would say a silent prayer for them. Hoping they were no longer suffering.

_They don’t have to live in this world anymore. Guess they’re lucky._

Zak shook this thought from his head. He turned a corner, knowing this is where his house was. Well, _house_ was a generous word for it. It was a small thing that was constructed from the remains of a destroyed building. It kept him safe, at least. 

He entered, falling onto the decrepit couch he found his comfort in. He let the flow of water drip down his throat slowly, trying to not choke on it. No one could help him if he did.

His chest raised up and down quickly as he tried to regain his breath. He let the now-empty bottle fall from his hand and his head relaxed into the seat. He was tired. Oh, so tired. But there was never any time to rest truly and properly here.

Zak made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Every day was the same. Wake up, salvage what he could from bodies and destroyed building, return home, repeat. He so desperately wanted something new; something to give a light to his dull life. He hadn’t seen a person for weeks now. He used to see legs going around a corner, a door slam, the glint of an eye. He didn’t know if it was his imagination.

He ran his hand through his hair, closing his eyes. _Maybe tomorrow will be better._ He let the pillow engulf his head, and he suddenly felt his fatigue catch up to him. He yawned at the emptiness called sleep took over him.

Zak woke to a loud crash. He bolted upright, his heartbeat in his ears. He felt panic rise up his throat, threatening to spill out. He took a breath to calm himself, “It’s nothing. Something just... fell! That’s it, something fell,” he mumbled to himself, attempting to instil new determination in himself.

His eyes surveyed the room, desperate for any explanation. His legs shook as he stood up fully.

A flicker. A shadow. 

He whipped his head around, tracing its path with his eyes. He backed up to his desk, fumbling around for the knife he kept for safety. Once he felt its cool metal grasp, new confidence ran through his veins. His footsteps echoed on the concrete floor. In response, another noise.

Zak was sure he had pinpointed where it was coming from. _Near the door. There’s a gap between the bookshelf and the drawers next to it._

He hid behind the couch, unsure whether the shadow had seen him yet. He tightened his grip around the blade and jumped out, straight to the area. 

He made eye contact with a man, ever so slightly taller than him.

A black hood, lined with red, rested on top of his hood.

Frightened green eyes hidden behind glasses that were slipping off the bridge of his noise. The quivering lip.

And the most jarring scene of all: the large wound in his side that was dripping blood onto the floor. Zak’s eyes widened; he was frozen.

The stranger opened his mouth as to speak, but a tear fell onto his face as he collapsed to the floor. Zak dropped his knife.

“H-Hey!” he shouted, and almost on reflex he caught the stranger in his arms before he fully hit the ground, “Hey, can you hear me? Hey!” He shook the boy, but the only response was the quickening of his breath. _Oh my god, oh my god,_ Zak thought as he desperately racked his brain for some way to help. 

His first human contact in weeks was with a stranger who was now bleeding out on his lap. 

He remembered a roll of bandages he had kept hidden under his for emergencies. He sighed, “Guess this is an emergency,” he commented mostly to himself, but also for any kind of reaction from the other. The only thing that had changed was the stranger’s eyes were now closed, tears still staining his cheeks.

Zak stood up, running on shaky legs to the other side of the room. He tore through his belongings. _Bandages, bandages… ah!_

He grabbed them with trembling fingers, as well with one of the only water bottles he had left, and made his way back to the other. The bleeding seemed to be slowing down, but so was the stranger’s breathing. Zak didn’t know why he wanted to help so much. He brushed it off as simply not wanting a dead body in his house. He removed the shirt from around the wound and began to pour water on it. The stranger’s body flinched and Zak was able to exhale a breath of relief. _He’s not dead yet,_ he thought as he cleaned the wound. It wasn’t as deep as he thought, just very long. _Explains all the blood,_ he thought.

He clumsily moved the body around a number of times to get the bandages on right, profusely apologising, feeling as awkward as he possibly could.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m— oh my god I’m sorry that would’ve hurt… just—” Zak just wanted to fill the silence. _Can’t he at least be a_ little _bit helpful?!_ he thought exasperatedly. He had the stranger’s blood on his hands, literally, and he used the remaining water to scrub it off. He was exhausted at this point. He looked down at the stranger, who seemed to be at least a little bit calmer. _What… what do I do now? Can I just… leave him here?_ Zak wondered. He knew he would have nowhere near the strength he would need to move the other to a couch. He sighed, grabbing the old curtain he used as a blanket to put it on top of the other. He lay it down gently, avoiding the newly-bandaged laceration. 

As he lay on the couch, the view of the stranger’s frightened eyes wouldn’t leave his mind. _He looked so scared… what was he so scared of? Why did I feel the need to help him so bad?_ He let the couch swallow his body as he closed his eyes. 

“Goodnight,” he mumbled, not expecting the other to hear.

In the morning, all that was left of the stranger was a small charm on the floor that resembled an angel.


	2. > two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so much to anyone who has read this so far!!!! i'm so excited to write this, and i'm glad that people enjoy it enough to read it :D i hope you enjoy this part <3

Zak blinked a few times, clambering over his furniture to get to the spot the stranger was lying in just a few hours ago. The curtain was folded neatly on the drawers, the area looking like nothing had happened. _He even… somehow… cleaned up the blood?_ Zak thought, confused. He gently held the small charm that the stranger must have left behind. It was an angel, a halo sitting proud on its head. He examined it closely for any initials, _anything_ that could give away the identity of the young man he was so close to just yesterday. 

“Why do I even care?” he asked the empty room, placing the angel next to the folded curtain. 

It only lasted a moment. He felt like something new had engraved itself into him. He grabbed the angel charm and a bag. He stuffed what he could into it; spare hoodies, water, the rations of food he had left, a knife, bandages, the curtain and finally, the small charm hidden in a side pocket so he wouldn’t lose it. _What am I even doing?_ he thought as he stepped out of his residence. He surveyed the area; he had seen it often. 

Then he took off running. 

He, of course, had absolutely no idea where he was going. 

_I’ll find him._

Then, he stopped. 

_Where am I going?_

He stopped, opened his bag, and looked at the angel once again. Scanning the keychain, he saw something that caused a bump in his chest. A piece of paper was slid into the end of the chain. Zak excitedly unfolded it.

_W, pomme, N, continuez, W, ouvres la porte.-bb_

Zak groaned, falling to the dusty ground, “This isn’t even English!” he complained aloud. He collapsed on the floor, exasperated. _What am I even supposed to do with this?!_

_This stranger… I need a name for him… I’m gonna call him Halo… because of the angel._

“Halo, you’re killing me,” he sighed. He lay on the dirt road and he closed his eyes. Did he just simply return home now, leaving this mystery forever unsolved?

_No. I need to see him again. Why was he so scared?_

Just as Zak was about to sit up, he heard the unfamiliar sound of footsteps crunching nearby. He froze in place. Nobody lived around here. He didn’t open his eyes; afraid of what he would see. 

“Hey,” a voice said, and Zak flinched. 

He lay frozen.

With absolutely no idea what it would accomplish. 

“You can’t, like, pretend you’re dead or something. I saw you before,” the voice dripped with an accent that Zak couldn’t pinpoint. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking to adjust them to the sunlight outside. A man was standing over him. He had slightly curly dark hair, glasses and an unshaven face. His face was unfamiliar, as was his voice. Zak sat up cautiously, reaching for his bag where he knew he had a knife hidden. He never wanted to use it. The stranger put his hands in front of him, almost in a surrender.

“I don’t want to hurt you! I just want to know what you’re doing here,” he attempted to mediate. Zak tilted his head in confusion, not removing his hand from his backpack.

“I feel like I should ask you that… I’ve never seen you around here before,” he responded, standing up. He swung his bag onto his back, clutching the angel charm in his hand.

“Oh… it’s just that I… happened to be passing through here, and saw you just… lying there,” the other responded. It became clear to Zak that he was desperately trying to find explanation.

“Okay…? I was just about to head off, I’ll be seeing you—” he began, sidestepping away.

“Wait a second! Where… where were you going?”

“None of your business.”

“B-But! I’m… you don’t know, do you?”

“Yeah, I do!”

“You can’t even read the note, you don’t even know French!”

“…how did you know I had a note?”

The stranger paled and stumbled back a bit, “uh… just… lucky guess?”

Zak stepped toward the other, narrowing his eyes. _Does he know Halo?_

“ _How_ did you know I have a note?” he repeated, becoming more weary of this stranger who stumbled across him after he had not seen a person walking these streets in weeks. The stranger put his hands between them, creating safety for himself.

“I… I read it in your hand when you were lying down. Before I said anything…” he tried to explain and, sensing Zak’s suspiciousness he continued, “but! I’m French… I can… come with you, if you want? I can help.”

_French, huh… that explains the accent,_ Zak thought. The idea of someone spending more than two minutes with him was a foreign concept at this point. The world was months into this apocalypse, and Zak was thrown out into nothingness. He hadn’t been with a group of people since…

He shook his head, trying to rid it of the painful memories that had crammed themselves in there. He felt his eyes burn. He looked back up at the other. He didn’t know if he could trust him, but he needed to find Halo. Zak needed to know why he had decided to enter his house, why he was so scared.

“Fine… just… okay,” Zak conceded, and the Frenchman held his hand out in greeting. It felt awkward, but Zak shook his hand. It was rough, no doubt from scavenging.

“I’m Vin,” the stranger introduced himself, smiling awkwardly.

“I’m Zak,” the shorter boy replied. The tension between them had begun to fade. Then, the silence happened. Neither knew how to fill it.

Ah, the awkwardness is back.

“Do you wanna read—”

“I, uh… already did…”

“What does it say?”

Vin hummed in thought, but Zak felt something was off. 

“I’m guessing the letters stand for directions, so it’d be something like “West, uh… apple? North, continue, West, open the door. No idea what that ‘bb’ means though,” Vin translated. Zak felt a smile fall onto his lips. _I’m going to see him again and find out what the heck he was doing in my house._

“Thanks… Vin. Guess we should go west then?” he stated; Vin nodded.

Neither moved.

“Okay, I’m not going to lie, I have no idea what direction west is,” Zak admitted. Vin sighed and nodded in solidarity.

“Me neither.”

* * *

After a few minutes of confusion (“The sun sets in the east, right?” “No, it’s the west!” “Don’t know about that one.”) they had a tinge of confidence to their destination. The destroyed road cracked under their feet. It was a path no one had taken in months. Zak attempted to start a conversation a few times, but they always fell flat. He didn’t know if it was a language barrier or the general tension, but it seemed like Vin didn’t want to talk. 

_Apple? What could that possibly mean? Halo, you’re no help,_ Zak contemplated. They passed countless buildings in almost dead silence. Zak averted his eyes from the few corpses that lay scattered, broken, across the street. Stores that used to be bustling with people lay silent, as if they had died along with the people. A McDonald’s, Target, KFC, Apple store, supermarkets— 

_Wait._

“Vin! An Apple store!” Zak said excitedly, pulling on the sleeve of the Frenchman. Vin looked up, nodding. 

“Would make sense,” he mused, looking at the paper, “next direction is north, guess we turn north here?” he suggested. Zak was already one step ahead of him, jogging down the street. He couldn’t hide his anticipation. 

There were noises in this street. Unnatural noises. He skidded to a halt. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was dry. He suddenly felt weak, like his body knew something was wrong. 

“U-Uh, Vin?” he gaped. The sun was setting. He was cold.

The Frenchman caught up to him, but stayed a few metres away. 

“Zak… I’m sorry,” he apologised, tilting his head down. Zak scanned his eyes around, trying to alert himself of any danger.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, feeling desperation crawling up his throat. He pulled the straps on his backpack closer to him. He took a step forward toward Vin, who stood back almost immediately, “Vin, I—”

A cloth of some kind was placed over his mouth and nose, and an paralysingly sweet smell took over his senses. His head began pounding. He couldn’t find the strength to fight back.

He only felt an overwhelming sense of betrayal and hopelessness. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks. He thought he had found someone he could talk to. He was numb; he had fallen to deception once again, since _them._ He felt his head spin and he fell to his knees. An cold seeped through him, and the last thing he saw was the pitying eyes of Vin, who turned and walked away.

_Of course, he would leave me too._


End file.
